A Handful of Hope

by Elizabeth Maddrey

  “You too.” Jen closed the door behind her and sagged against it. Special. Amazing. But not kissable. Okay, maybe it was too soon for that. Had he at least wanted to? No way to know. Past experience would suggest he probably didn’t. But...David was different. The things he said and did...maybe she was good enough?

  It didn’t seem possible. David was smart, good looking, and a solid Christian. What could he possibly see in her? She was just a nerdy girl who struggled in large groups—and, if she was honest, in small ones too. There was nothing special about her. Why would he say there was?

  Her shoulders slumped as she locked the door and headed to Tribble’s crate to let her out. “Come on, girl. Let’s go potty one last time.”

  She opened the sliding glass door and let the dog run out to the little patch of green. What would it be like to be cherished? To have someone believe you were worthwhile—believe so strongly that you might even believe it yourself? She scoffed. Like that was going to happen in this lifetime. People just didn’t see her that way.

  Tribble dashed back to her and circled her feet before squeezing back inside. Jen rubbed her arms and stepped back into the warmth of the apartment. January wasn’t leaving without a final reminder that it was supposed to be winter.

  She turned, her gaze landing on the cheery flowers David had brought. She smiled. A gentle warmth oozed into her heart. Special and amazing. Maybe it was true.

  David checked his watch. It was already well after seven. The office was practically deserted, and yet, here he sat, going over the proposal one final time before turning it in. It was due by nine tonight, but he wanted to get it done before the final hour. Too often the computer got overloaded at the deadline and the systems would go down, leaving people who waited to the last minute completely out of luck.

  The weekend had taken a turn for the worse. He’d spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday afternoon working on the proposal. He’d texted off and on each day with Jen, but hadn’t even been able to stay for lunch with everyone after the service. The start of the week hadn’t been much better. He’d barely had time for a granola bar at his desk on Monday and Tuesday. Today he had run across to Mia’s, but half of his sandwich was now congealing in his trash can, having sat for so long before he had a chance to get to it that it was basically inedible. He’d texted Jen a few times, a quote he’d run across over the weekend doing research, a silly story about one of the subcontractors and their inability to string sentences together coherently, but it wasn’t enough. He ached to see her.

  Good enough. They’d either get the project or not—and he was banking on the side of winning—they had a good proposal team, difficulties writing notwithstanding. He uploaded the document to the submission portal, double-checked all the fields were filled in, and hit send. He forwarded the email confirmation to Kurt and logged out of his machine. Seven forty-five.

  It wasn’t that late.

  Would she have gone to church on a Wednesday night? There were small groups and Bible studies, but it wasn’t as if they were in the age group for youth activities. And the singles didn’t do anything together during the week, usually. At least, not anything spiritual. He’d overheard a handful of people in the Sunday school class talking about various happy hours. He didn’t necessarily object to a drink now and then, even if it wasn’t something he enjoyed personally, but to go to a bar as a church outing crossed a few lines, in his mind.

  He could text. Or he could just show up. At least then he’d get to see her for a few minutes at the door. Even if she told him to go away. Resolute, David headed down to his car. He’d pick up ice cream on the way. Surely she wouldn’t turn him away if he came bearing gifts.

  The one benefit of leaving work so late was lighter traffic. Not that the roads were deserted. Did that ever happen around metro DC? Probably not. But still, being able to hit the speed limit—and maybe a tad above—was a bonus. He found a parking spot near her door and grabbed the tub of ice cream. His stomach flipped. David sent up a quick prayer that he wasn’t moving too fast and headed for the door. Before he could talk himself out of it, he hit the doorbell.

  Seconds ticked by, the ice cream freezing his hand. At least it wouldn’t melt. February had started out with temperatures that plunged down to freezing at night. Though they were saying it could get up to the mid-sixties next week. After a chance of snow on Saturday. He smiled. The weather in this area was never boring.

  Should he ring the bell again? Knock? Call? Maybe she wasn’t home after all. One more try. He rapped on the door. This time, a faint yip reached him. Her dog was home at least.

  The door opened a crack, then widened. “David? Hi.”

  “I got the proposal submitted and realized it was worth celebrating. Then I thought of you. I brought ice cream.”

  She smiled. “What flavor?”

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but my sisters say chocolate is never wrong, so I got chocolate with a fudge ribbon.” He held out the tub.

  Jen opened the door wider and took the ice cream. “Come on in. So you got the proposal done?”

  David nodded, shutting the door behind him. He looked around her apartment. It was tidy, done in neutrals with a few splashes of color popping out on one chair, some pictures, and a pillow. Her dog was curled on the couch, watching him intently. The TV was on, a police drama paused with one of the actors mid-speech. “I—I guess I should say we, though the help from my ‘team’ was negligible—did. Submitted and everything. It’s a pretty good bid, I think. Now we just wait and see.”

  “Let’s sit in the kitchen. As you can see, there’s a huge puzzle on my dining table. I don’t know what my parents were thinking.”

  David followed her gesture and his eyes widened. “That’s...a seriously big puzzle. But you’ve got all the edges done, so that’s progress, right?”

  “Yeah. I...have a knack, I guess.” Jen shrugged. “Kitchen?”

  David set down the puzzle piece he was looking at and tucked his hands in his pockets as he followed her.

  Jen took two bowls out of her cupboard and set them on the counter before rooting around in a drawer. She emerged with an ice cream scoop. “How much?”

  “Couple of scoops? Don’t be skimpy.” David flashed a grin and pulled a chair out from the tiny table that was jammed into the corner of the small space. An enormous potted plant took up most of the surface. “So, hanging out with the TV and a puzzle...is that a typical weeknight for you?”

  “Yeah, probably. Sometimes I get unexpected visitors.” She smiled and brought the bowls of ice cream over. “Usually it’s my mom, Rebecca, or Sara though. And they don’t usually bring ice cream.”

  “Well, that’s something, then. It’s a pretty good way to spend an evening. I’ll be glad when I can stop bringing work home and actually watch a show instead of having it on for background noise and missing most of it. That episode you’re watching? I think I got about five minutes of it.” He dipped his spoon into the dessert. She’d barely put any into her bowl. Should he mention it? “Was this not a good flavor?”

  Jen paused with her spoon nearly to her mouth. “No, it’s great. Why?”

  “I...you’re not hungry?”

  She sighed and put the spoon down. “I don’t have a metabolism that lets me eat whatever I want, whenever I want.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Jen flushed and glanced down at her bowl. “Thanks. Anyway. You like the show?”

  He nodded. Better to drop it. But did she really not understand how lovely she was? “One of my favorites. Have you been watching since it started?”

  “Yeah—even suffered through that half-season where they tried to replace the female lead with that big-chested bimbo.”

  He laughed. “That was hard to get through. I was glad when they finally killed her off, even if they did go for the sap and leave the lead with a broken heart. Whatever, man, rub some dirt on it and do your job.”

  “Oh, it’s that easy? What if she was th
e love of his life? I like the new dimension it added to his character.”

  David scoffed. “No one as dumb as she was would ever be the love of his life. He’s too brainy for that. He was the ultimate—brainy and hardcore—now he’s such a cry baby, I half expect him to start weeping in the middle of a foot chase.”

  “He’s not that bad.”

  “Finish the episode you’re watching and then tell me that.” David scooped up another bite. “What else do you watch?”

  “I like some of the competition-based reality shows. Cooking, singing, doesn’t matter. As long as there’s a decent prize at the end and the people are looking to kick start an actual career. Not the ones where they’re just looking for fifteen minutes of fame for being on TV.”

  He laughed. “I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone, but I like those too. Ever try out the recipes?”

  “From the shows?” Jen poked at the ice cream in her bowl then licked her spoon.

  “Yeah. They’re usually up on the website a day or two after the episode airs. Some have been pretty good.”

  “You cook.”

  His eyebrows lifted. She sounded stunned. Bordering on amazed. “Not as often as I’d like, but I’ve been known to.”

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  “Are you saying I’m lying?”

  Her eyes darted to one side and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Well...”

  “Challenge accepted. Busy Saturday?”

  She blinked. “Um. No?”

  “Now you are. Anything you don’t eat?”

  “I don’t particularly care for shellfish. It’s not an allergy, really, but...” Jen scrunched her nose.

  “No shellfish. Check. Can I pick you up at five?”

  She tapped her spoon against the bowl. “You’re cooking. Why don’t I just drive myself? That way you don’t have to try and plan around a break to come get me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  His parents would be appalled. On the other hand, he didn’t make a habit of cooking for his dates. He’d never even cooked for Soo-Yi. It had never seemed right. This did. Being around Jen was like being at home. Comfortable. But not in a boring or forgettable way. If anything, being around her had him more aware of...everything. “Okay. Five still work?”

  “I can do that. I’ll need your address.”

  David slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped his address into a text message. “There.”

  Things were silent for several heartbeats. Should he...what? He didn’t want to talk about work, especially since she hadn’t brought it up. “Want some help with your puzzle?”

  “You’re cooking for her?” Ji shook hot sauce on her chicken wings. “You’ve only cooked for the family once. She really is special.”

  David nodded. “She is. I don’t think she realizes it though.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I wonder if the problem is less a self-esteem issue and more depression.”

  Depression? He pursed his lips. Maybe. “The two probably feed each other, don’t they?”

  “You catch on fast.”

  He smiled and took a bite of his own chicken. Ji had gone through some fairly serious depression after she and Jared broke up. It had been a rough time for the family. Their church didn’t believe Christians could be depressed. Though they never had any issues with physical illness, mental illness fell solely into the camp of spiritual warfare. Not that it wasn’t—the devil had a grand time convincing Christians they were worthless. It got them to do his work for him. But as his family—and ultimately his church—had learned while walking alongside Ji, mental illnesses shouldn’t be a cause for shame and ostracism.

  “Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more that seemed like something I should mention. You maybe don’t remember...”

  “I remember.” David touched his sister’s hand. “I was young, but not that young. And it was a rough time.”

  Ji nodded and looked away. “I had trouble after both kids were born, too. I think maybe there’s a predisposition in me.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  She shrugged. “I’d beaten it once, you know? I thought surely it wasn’t something I’d have to deal with again. But it was—is. If I’m honest, I fight it every day. Min is a rock, so supportive. But I know it’s not easy to love me. You need to know that, going in. Loving someone who battles depression is hard.”

  Loving? It made him catch his breath. And yet... “I appreciate that. I think it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  Ji smiled. “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  Chuckling, Ji took a long pull from her soda. “Why do you say that?”

  “She keeps putting up walls, pushing back ever so slightly.”

  “That’s not surprising, if I’m right.”

  David nodded. It did put a new spin on things. Maybe she wasn’t disinterested. “So keep trying?”

  “Unless she unequivocally tells you to stop. There is an element of ‘no means no’ to be kept in mind.”

  “How do I know?”

  “Pray. A lot. I will too.”

  He sighed. Why couldn’t God send down a daily to-do list? Or even weekly? Of course, if He did, there’d be no need to pray and trust. Which probably answered the question. “Thanks, Ji.”

  Butterflies danced in her stomach. What had she been thinking when she agreed to this? Dinner at his apartment? If that didn’t say “date,” nothing did. And they weren’t dating. They weren’t suited to that. Hadn’t they agreed on that?

  Rebecca and Sara hadn’t been any help last night, either. They thought it was cute. And okay, maybe it was. But...how could anything come out of it? Rebecca had gone on for what seemed like forever about how she needed to let their bad date go. Sure, maybe she did. It was never good to drag that around. Except she couldn’t. Just like all the bad things people said to her, her bad experiences followed her around, replaying in her head whenever doubt opened the door. And doubt was never far away.

  Why couldn’t she be like normal people and shrug it off? Why couldn’t she, even in the middle of hanging out with friends and having fun, accept that the people she was with really liked her and wanted to be with her? Instead, she spent half the time questioning why they were bothering, wondering what they were after and when they were going to realize they could do so much better and walk away. Why did it take so much energy to get herself out the door and then even more to stay? And by the time she got home, the doubts and fears were so all-consuming she only wanted to pull the covers up over her head and sleep for the next three days.

  But somehow, life kept marching on. Which meant she had to as well.

  A year ago, the anti-depressants she finally broke down and got from her doctor were enough to make it less of a struggle. And even though Doctor Mancini had been a jerk, some of the coping techniques she’d learned in therapy had started to help. Why didn’t they still do the job? Why couldn’t faith be enough? Jen sighed. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe she did need to go back to the doctor and see about increasing her medication. More therapy? She wasn’t there yet. Although...at some point, didn’t you have to admit your failure?

  Focus on the positive. For whatever reason, whether or not it made sense, David continued to act interested. It was worth the effort to meet him half way. Because she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She liked him. And no amount of praying was changing that. If anything, the more she prayed, the more David seemed to pursue.

  So. She was going to get out of the car, go into his building, and have dinner. Jen took a deep breath and pushed open her car door. His building was fancy. One of the newer high rise building on the edges of Tyson’s. Rent must be insane. Of course, he was several levels above her salary-wise, so it probably was no big deal, but...what would it be like to live in something all shiny and new with glass and chrome everywhere? She wrinkled her nose. Her compl
ex was older and all brick. But they’d replaced the carpet fairly recently and her neighbors were friendly. Plus, no one minded Tribble. That was definitely a bonus. Could you even have a dog in a place like this?

  With a nod to the security guard in the entrance, Jen made her way to the elevators and pressed the button. Her complex was all walk-up. Yet another reason to have the ground level, even if the grassy spot for Tribble hadn’t pushed her over the edge. The car arrived and she stepped in, pressing David’s floor. The ride up was smooth and fast. Before she was ready, she was standing in front of his apartment door, reminding herself to breathe.

  “Right on time.” David grinned as he held open the door. “Have any trouble finding it?”

  She shook her head and looked around his living room. It was clean and almost meticulously organized. Books were shelved neatly, there wasn’t even a speck of dust on the glass-topped coffee table, and his black leather sofa gleamed in the soft light from the lamps on the end tables on either side. “This is nice. Have you lived here long?”

  “Since they built the place five years ago. My older brother works for the investment company that owns it, he got me on the list before it was open to the public. That’s how I snagged one of the corners, with two balconies. They went fast.”

  “I bet.” She tucked her hands in her pockets. “I should have offered to bring something. I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me.”

  “It’s not a problem. Can I get you something to drink? I have iced tea, various sodas, water?”

  “Water is fine. It smells good.”

  He chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

  “No.”

  He eyed her, eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, maybe a little.” Of course, it could be takeout. Even if it was, it was a nice gesture. But it didn’t smell like takeout.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll get you some water and bring out the first course.” David gestured to the two-person table set against the floor-to-ceiling window. A single bright-yellow daisy stood in a bud vase in the center, between two place settings of simple white china on black placemats. David pulled out a chair.